Hands
by thewriterinpink
Summary: Kyle slowly comes to realize a change between him and Cartman when they inexplicably start a confusing trend of holding hands.


**I'm never going to keep up with current South Park, but that never seems to stop me from writing stories with these two when the stars align. I shipped these two really hard in my young teens and I guess that makes me inclined to write something. Typically, I write because I feel like I'm not seeing anything I want to see because of my specific interests. This came to be from that... but it was written quite a while ago. I kind of forgot about it, but now that I have this new account, I might as well post it.**

* * *

They're holding hands.

It takes Kyle a few seconds for the feeling to register in his brain and even longer for him to realize whose hand is in his own. Belatedly, he remembers grabbing someone's hand in his rush to get away, but he hadn't really thought on who it had been. He honestly thought it would be Stan.

But the hand is larger and sweatier but oddly soft and squishy. His own smaller and slender hand feels dwarfed in comparison. The wider fingers feel weird between his own.

Kyle looks at Cartman, who is bent over on the ground on his knees and one hand completely winded after the chase. He clearly hasn't noticed their predicament. Kyle can let go before he realizes. He doesn't want to have an argument about this. They've already got plenty of other things to be worrying about without getting at each other's throat over something as stupid as accidental hand holding.

Kyle doesn't let go.

"Are you done, Fatass?"

Cartman coughs and swears, turning his head to send daggers Kyle's way.

"F-Fuck you, s-stupid Jew...!"

Kyle smirks.

"You know we didn't really run for that long, just a few blocks. Are you starting to regret the second breakfast you ate this morning, Fatso?"

Cartman continues to glare, but it looks weak as he tries to calm his breathing and stay conscious. He surprises Kyle by digging sharp nails into his skin, making noticeable half moon imprints.

"S-Shut up, asshole! Just help me up already!"

Kyle complies, using what strength he possesses to attempt to help Cartman up. It doesn't go over well since Cartman seems to be refusing to push himself up as he pulls so he only manages to drag Cartman across the gravel floor. Cartman whines.

Kyle gives up and glares down at the fat sack of lard that is posing as his semi-friend.

"Dammit, Cartman, just get up on your own! We don't have fucking time for this! Stan and Kenny could be in trouble and you're wasting away on the concrete!"

Cartman groans and stays where he is.

Kyle rolls his eyes, disgusted. Finally, he lets go of Cartman's hand and turns to leave, determined to find out what happened to his friends. A part of him feels satisfaction when he hears a scuffle behind him as Cartman desperately tries to force his fat ass off the ground and hurry after Kyle's retreating form.

"W-Wait, Jew! Eh! I said fucking wait! If you leave me alone, I might get offed to!"

Kyle snorts, but he slows down his pace for Cartman to catch up.

"We can only hope, Cartman. Now, come on, we got to save Stan and Kenny from that monster before it gets them too."

Cartman surprisingly doesn't disagree despite his earlier fears about being killed. It's moments like this that remind Kyle that, somewhere deep down in the dark recesses of Cartman's mind, he may actually care for them. It's hard to wrap his mind around, but even he knows Cartman can't possibly be all bad; that there must be some redeeming quality swimming somewhere in his fat body. It doesn't excuse all the bad things he's done before and will do again, but it does give hope for change.

Stupidly, Kyle can't help but hope there is something more than what Cartman gives all the time. He knows he'll be disappointed, has been disappointed, but that won't stop him from thinking it.

He's not holding Cartman's hand anymore, but the memory of it still remains even long after the whole affair is over and done with, with no one they care about killed or hurt. It's like a phantom Kyle can't get rid of and he finds himself rubbing at his hand with the other to get it off but it persists.

There's an odd twist in his gut as he stares at his hand. A hand that had been holding onto someone whose entire being is of fire and ash yet had felt way softer than deserving. Cartman, in general, is undeserving of most things, so he shouldn't be surprised his hands don't match his temperament.

Someone so shitty shouldn't have such soft hands.

* * *

It's a few weeks later and this time he catches Cartman's hand before he falls.

It happens so suddenly that Kyle doesn't think, just reaches and grabs Cartman's chubby hand as he gets knocked down the ladder the three of them are attempting to climb even as the town behind them is destroyed by the latest catastrophe. It was a piece of debris as large as Cartman that sent him flying and Kyle only just manages to link his fingers around the meat of Cartman's hand, his arm lurching at the sudden weight it is forced to hold.

"Shit," Kyle swears, squeezing his eyes tight and gritting his teeth at the pain.

"Kyle!" Stan calls from above, at the top of the ladder. "Kyle, are you alright?"

Kyle doesn't answer as he's more preoccupied with keeping Cartman in his grip and the pain emitting from his shoulder. He's pretty sure he pulled a muscle and thinks his arm will pop out of its socket if Cartman doesn't get back on the ladder soon. He breathes a sigh of relief when the weight subsides, a slap of a hand hitting the metal ladder an indicator that Cartman has found a perch and isn't going to fall to his death.

They already lost Kenny, he doesn't need to lose Cartman too.

Despite this knowledge, Kyle doesn't let go immediately, instead turning his gaze downwards to see Cartman's condition. Cartman looks disgruntled but unhurt and for some reason Kyle can't fathom the relief he feels grows tangible, enough to suffocate him. Unconsciously, his grip tightens around Cartman's hand.

A hand that feels just as soft and pudgy as before, comforting in its existence. The fact it is warm and sweaty from the quick movements against the ladder is a reminder that Cartman is very much alive.

And whatever the reason may be, he's glad.

Cartman notices easily enough that his hand is not being let go. An explosion from behind them rattles the evening with its abruptness. Stan's hurried voice is drowned out by the sound

Cartman's brows dip down.

"Eh, Kahl, what giv—?"

"Are you okay?"

Cartman blinks, clear surprise lighting up his features.

"What?"

Kyle doesn't budge.

"Are. You. Okay?"

Cartman is annoyed by the slower repeat of the words but he answers anyway.

"Yeah, Jew, I'm fine. Now, can you let go of my fucking hand? I can hear Stan's bitchy whining from here."

Kyle does so, slowly and reluctantly like he's expecting Cartman to disappear the moment he lets go. But he's fine, of course he is, and they make it up the ladder with no more problems.

Stan is staring at him when they get there like he knows what has transpired below and is judging Kyle. The expression seems familiar; it wouldn't be the first time Stan disagrees with something Kyle did, but he doesn't think Stan actually knows anything. He's probably just worried he took so long, what with the whole town on fire.

Stan doesn't ask if Cartman's okay after his fall, hadn't even when he fell in the first place and had only been concerned with Kyle's well being. It makes Kyle think more than he should. He begins to wonder why he cares so much if Stan clearly doesn't. Why grabbing Cartman's hand had been instinctual, a natural response to Cartman in danger, instead of ignoring him altogether.

It makes him realize that his feelings for Cartman, the indifference he held for him in their early years and the hatred he felt after, isn't the same as before. More layered and oddly important. You don't save someone you hate and no one will begrudge you if you don't and certainly, no one will care if someone like Cartman dies, but he does regardless.

This isn't the first time he has saved Cartman. He recognizes it won't be the last.

He doesn't really know what that means for him; what that makes him. Some would say it just makes him a good person, saving anyone no matter who they are, but even Kyle realizes it's more than that.

It's a hard pill to swallow when you realize you actually care about someone you really, really shouldn't.

* * *

It's the middle of class and Cartman swears he's been poisoned and needs a doctor.

Nobody believes him until he pukes up on his desk, covering his D- math work in a chunky orange and brown mess.

Actually, they still don't believe him, but they do believe that he's sick and needs to go to the nurse's office. Kyle, who sits right next to Cartman and had unfortunately witnessed the gross display, is told to escort him there. He wants to argue against it but decides that having permission to skip class is justifiable enough to have to lug Cartman's sick behind around.

Cartman can walk on his own and even looks a little insulted when the teacher suggests it, but he still leans heavily into Kyle's side as they make their way to their destination. Kyle's annoyed, but not enough to push him away. He can feel the abnormal heat coming off Cartman in waves.

He finds himself making small talk as they walk, wanting a distraction from the weight pressing heavily into his body.

"What the hell did you eat anyway, Fatass? The class is going to smell like barf for fucking weeks now because you can't stop eating!"

Cartman huffs. The air slides against his ear, making Kyle shiver yet he doesn't feel cold.

"I didn't eat too much, asshole! I was poisoned. Someone fucking poisoned me! No, _you_ poisoned me, didn't you, Jew? You wanted to get rid of me without getting caught! Well, you sneaky bitch, you aren't going to get away with that! I'll poison you back, Kahl."

Kyle rolls his eyes, adjusting Cartman against him. He really doesn't think Cartman will be doing much of anything as sick as he is. It's predictable by this point that he'll blame Kyle for his imaginary poisoning.

"Fine, you didn't overeat and I certainly didn't poison you. God, you probably just have the flu. You don't have to be so fucking dramatic all the time, Cartman."

Cartman makes a sound of disagreement but otherwise says nothing, glaring moodily at the floor. Kyle looks at him and notices how pale he actually looks, the spaces around his eyes dark and bruising, lips chapped from dehydration. Kyle is certain Cartman looked fine this morning, but maybe he had been hiding any previous discomfort for some stupid reason that only Cartman thought made sense.

"Honestly," Kyle finds himself muttering, bringing his attention back to the hallway, "if you felt this bad you should have stayed home. Saved both of us the trouble."

Cartman grunts.

The nurse's room comes into view and Kyle stops in front of it, steadying Cartman against the wall and knocking on the door. The nurse apparently had been told of their appearance as she is waiting for them, allowing them in and taking Cartman from Kyle, leading him to a cot by the wall. Cartman moans and it occurs to Kyle that Cartman might have grown quieter by the end of their discussion because he had been growing ill again.

The nurse tuts softly, pushing Cartman's sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

"Oh, you poor dear. Looks like a bad case of the flu. I'll be calling your mother shortly to pick you up, but first I'll get you some water. You look like you may need it."

The nurse steps away from Cartman to do just that and Kyle moves to take her place like an invisible string is pulling him there and he has no choice but to follow. He stares down at Cartman dully and tries to feel some sort of emotion other than pity for him. If they were younger, if they had been through fewer adventures that had unfortunately strengthened their strange bond, it may have been vindictiveness he would be feeling right now, not sympathy.

Cartman really does look like utter horse shit.

Kyle's brows pinch and almost against his will his hand falls neatly back in Cartman's own like it somehow belonged there. His hand is even starting to recognize the shape, fitting with a small amount of familiarity. He feels awkward because this is the first time he's done this consciously and he doesn't even really understand why he's doing it. Something in Cartman's clear distress is forcing him to respond in some sort of comfort. Cartman's hand had been just there too, laying noticeably on the cot.

Plus, Cartman seems too sick to fight it, his eyes roving over their entwined hands with one halfhearted eyebrow raise.

"That's fucking gay, dude," he croaks, but he doesn't tell Kyle to fuck off with his sympathy, just closes his eyes and breathes.

Kyle's thumb caresses soft and plump skin. Only one time, but he still does it and the memory of the movement burns in his mind's eye.

The nurse comes back and gently lifts Cartman's head to give him a few simple sips of water. She smiles at Kyle when she notices their hands and Kyle wants to pull away, feeling like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't (and maybe that's true, he thinks, he really shouldn't), but she turns back to Cartman before he can decide to.

She pulls away, placing the paper cup on a table nearby.

"I'll go call your mother now, dear. It won't be long now."

This leaves them alone for awhile. Cartman's usually sharp gaze is directed toward him now, tired and dazed. Kyle feels himself freeze under it anyway.

Cartman wets his lips.

"If this is you trying to make up for poisoning me, Kahl, it ain't gonna work. I'm totally gonna get my sweet revenge on you, just you wait and see."

Kyle relaxes and rolls his eyes, wondering why he had been nervous to begin with. This is still Cartman after all. Just stupid and paranoid Cartman. The only difference between now and any other time they've talked is now they brought hand holding into the equation. If Cartman's not going to act like there's anything wrong with that, Kyle isn't either.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Cartman? I didn't poison you. You heard the nurse, you're sick with the flu."

"Yeah, but she didn't actually check me for poison, so what does she really fucking know? I could be still dying and nobody fucking cares. My mom's going to fucking sue all your asses once I'm dead and buried. That nurse will pay for her incompetence!"

Kyle actually laughs, shoulders shaking as he tries to reign it in. Cartman can be funny when he's not trying to be.

Cartman scowls at him.

"Eh! Don't laugh at me, I'm being serious! Fucking Jew!"

Kyle just shakes his head.

"You're playing yourself, Cartman. None of that is actually going to happen. You're just stupid. Accept it."

Anger flares in Cartman's eyes, but it's short lived as he suddenly closes his eyes and moans again, his free hand coming to cover his mouth as he shakes his head.

"I hate your fucking guts, you stickin' Jew," Cartman says past tightly shut lips.

Kyle has just enough time to grab the garbage can nearby and place it in front of Cartman as he attempts to get rid of every foul meal he's had in the last day and then some. Kyle winces at the loud hurling sound that echoes off the enclosed space of the trash can.

Shockingly, even after those quick events, his hand is still securely in Cartman's own. He stares at it as he tries to comprehend his body's insistence in keeping them connected this way, even during a panic.

He can't find an answer.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, I really am going to die! Kahl, what am I going to do?" Cartman suddenly breaks out into a tearful and fearful whine, too preoccupied in trying not to puke anymore than he already had to actually look Kyle's way.

Kyle doesn't really have an answer to that either, mostly because he finds it nearly impossible to quiet down Cartman's mind long enough for him to recognize he's making a big deal out of nothing. Once Cartman's got an idea in his head, he doesn't let it go.

It's really odd to watch Cartman fall apart like this, dripping tears into the trash can he's clutching tightly to his chest. It's the most human Cartman can ever be and Kyle soaks it up like a sponge. He doesn't even think to use this for blackmail or make fun of Cartman for it. All he can think is how genuine the emotions on Cartman's face are and how he wishes Cartman was more honest around him.

He squeezes Cartman's hand, hard enough to be painful, and Cartman sniffles, bringing his eyes reluctantly up to Kyle's. Kyle stares back, gaze firm.

"You're not going to die, Cartman. I wouldn't let you."

It's not exactly the most comforting line or even the most sympathetic, but Kyle means them in every way that counts. He's saved Cartman's ass plenty of times and apparently that means he isn't up for Cartman dying or being seriously hurt, no matter how much he'd like it to be otherwise.

Cartman seems to relax, nodding shakily and glancing down almost shyly into the garbage can filled with the remains of Cartman's half-digested meals. Their breathing fills the silence of the room, though Cartman's is noticeably more laboured.

Cartman takes a sudden deep breath in.

"Thanks, Jew," comes out as he exhales and he's not looking at Kyle. Kyle swears his cheeks have turned red, but that might be because he's sick.

The room suddenly feels claustrophobic, the walls too close and the ceiling too low. Kyle's hand has grown sweaty after holding Cartman's for an extended amount of time and he's starting to become aware of it. He takes his own deep breath in, suddenly needing it.

"You're welcome."

The words hang in the air, feeling foreign and _not them_. They repeat in Kyle's head, they bounce off the walls, they remind him that things that he can't explain are changing and he can't stop it.

Or maybe they've always been naturally changing, from the moment they met as babies, and he just never noticed, too emerged in their usual arguments and disagreements and occasional bouts of the opposite.

The sudden interruption of a familiar sweet sounding voice echoing down the hall is a welcomed distraction from the thoughts floating in Kyle's head. Absentmindedly, he squeezes Cartman's hand one more time before pulling out of the grip, wiping his hand on his pants to remove the sweat. Cartman does the same, but his undivided attention is on the closed door of the nurse's office, round face hopeful.

Miss Cartman barrels through the door, eyes immediately falling on her ill son. She places her hands on her cheeks, eyes wide as she shakes her head.

"Oh my, my darling Eric, look at you! My poor boy. Let mommy take you home and take good care of you, poopsykins. You'll be right as rain in no time."

Cartman seems to gain more comfort out of those few words than he had ever under Kyle's own, but that makes sense since she is his mother. Who doesn't feel complete security under the word of a loving mother?

Kyle feels like he's done his job now (more than that, actually, but he won't think too heavily about it) and steps away, turning to leave.

Just before he can slip out though, Miss Cartman calls after him in her usual well-meaning way.

"Oh, Kyle, thank you for taking care of my Eric and sitting with him. You really are such a good friend!"

Friend. Kyle's never exactly thought of himself like that when it came to Cartman and he doesn't think of himself as that now either, even if he can admit he cares enough about Cartman that he doesn't want him to die. They still have opposite viewpoints, but enemy has never fully captured their relationship either.

So, the question then remains. What are they?

* * *

Kyle doesn't expect there to be anymore hand holding between them like the one before; it had been a fluke, a once in a lifetime scenario where the situation had twisted Kyle up enough that any other response would have fallen short.

Except, not even two weeks later, his hand is in Cartman's again but this time it isn't his doing.

The appendage betrays him by unconsciously linking their fingers together before he can even realize where his hand is. He blinks and freezes suddenly, turning his head around and regarding the bigger boy sitting beside him, a deep and thoughtful expression marring his features, the type that occurs when Cartman is trying to figure something out.

Cartman had grabbed his hand. In the middle of class.

Of course, it is the middle of a free period where the class had been ordered to study, but anyone can look up and see their entwined hands and there is no way to deny it if that happens.

Kyle thinks about pulling away, is definitely about to pull away, but then he makes the mistake of looking Cartman in the eyes and it makes him hesitate long enough for Cartman to speak up.

"How can you hold anything with such tiny baby hands?"

Kyle scoffs and then rolls his eyes hard enough he's certain they'd get stuck if that was possible. Instead, his eyes fall back onto Cartman and the fact that despite his words there is no malice behind them, only honest curiosity. He has no choice but to give Cartman the benefit of the doubt; he clearly isn't trying to agitate Kyle. Kyle usually notices it when he is.

"I have normal hands. It's you that has fucking gigantic ones, Fatso."

Cartman frowns at this but he isn't nearly as upset as he usually would be. It makes Kyle pause. He gives Cartman a cautious and suspicious look. It's unheard of Cartman acting like this without some other intent. Kyle knows he should stay on guard, but it's hard to do so when everything Cartman is displaying seems genuine.

"Why are you holding my hand?" Kyle asks finally. He glances around them quickly, just to make sure their conversation isn't disturbing anyone enough to check where it's coming from. He doesn't need to bother though; most of the students are either sleeping or dazed or doing their own thing. They don't even twitch, lost in their own worlds as they are. Hell, even the teacher seems to be sleeping.

"I don't know, Kahl, why?" A familiar smirk surfaces but it seems much tamer, almost playful now. Cartman tilts his head, their clasped hands raised slightly in the space between them. He chuckles. "I remember you doing something like this to me when I was too fucking sick to push you away. I'm only returning the favour with my own surprise attack. Isn't that fair?"

Kyle sighs and avoids Cartman's eyes. Unfortunately, that leads his gaze back to their hands and he's forced to contemplate them. They don't even fit very well together or they _shouldn't_ ; what may look wrong seems to feel right regardless of Kyle's personal opinion. Cartman's hand isn't just soft today, it's _warm_ in a way that's so stupidly pleasing that Kyle honestly wants to die so he doesn't have to deal with what's going on anymore.

But Kyle is still very much alive and no amount of pleading with anyone above is going to make this situation go away. He has enough experience with Cartman to know this.

"This is not a game, Cartman. I was just comforting you before." Kyle pauses before continuing. "It's what friends do."

He's hoping Cartman won't notice the pause but Cartman is nothing if not astute. Kyle watches Cartman's eyes narrow, something dangerous traps itself behind sky blue eyes. A warning.

"That's not it."

"Then what is it then?" Kyle quickly counters, aware that every moment Cartman is looking at him like that is a moment too long. He doesn't know what Cartman wants from him, but Kyle isn't about to give it to him. He does, on the other hand, want to placate Cartman enough so he doesn't give this whole position away.

Cartman studies him intently. He turns his gaze downward between them, something Kyle has never seen before crossing his face. He sighs.

"I'm not your friend, Kahl. At worst, I'm your enemy. At best..."

"Yes?"

Cartman breaks out of his thoughts. His eyes suddenly widen commercially, gaze snapping up to look at Kyle, expression close to petrified. Kyle's brows turn down in worry and he moves to speak, but Cartman's gaze then flicks at their joined hands again and he blanches, practically throwing Kyle's hand away. The change in demeanour is startling, but unfortunately not unusual; Cartman's emotions have always been this wild.

"Cartm—"

"Don't talk to me you stupid fucking Jew!"

His response finally jostles the other students, all of them breaking out of their worlds to look up curiously at the intrusion. The only people who don't bother are Stan and Kenny, long used to their friend's quarrels to assume this is just another one.

Kyle longs for the days it was just a stupid fight. The deep red blush covering Cartman's entire face is not just from anger, but something Kyle doesn't want to name. It frightens him because if his suspicion is at all true, it may be difficult to stay normal around this.

Not that Kyle feels they've been normal the past few months. A change has been coming, it's just the idea of it being something like _that_...

Kyle turns his gaze back to his homework, trying to ignore the odd loss in his hand from overexposure to Cartman's own. It'll pass. They don't need to do anything about this; feelings come and go.

But this is a little bit more than a crush, isn't it?

* * *

Cartman doesn't allow them to talk for a whole week, ignoring not only Kyle but anyone associated with Kyle. Considering how tight South Park's social groups are and how little most people want to spend time with Cartman, Kyle knows that means Cartman has spent most of the week alone.

Kyle tries not to care, tries to feel happy that Cartman isn't around, but he knows he can't fool himself on that one. Once Kyle knows something, he can't erase it from his mind; it becomes something that needs to be dealt with.

It's why on a Wednesday afternoon when the bell signalling the ending of the day rings, Kyle raises from his seat and stops Cartman with a hand wrapped around his thick wrist, his gaze strong and demanding. Cartman pauses, staring down at the tabletop, a complicated expression battling on his face. Kyle swallows, knows there are many other kids still in the classroom, and moves his hand down anyway, gripping Cartman's hand much more delicately than he had Cartman's wrist.

Cartman raises his eyes then at the touch, a heavy frown directed at Kyle. He can't seem to muster up any ire, instead just staring moodily.

"What do you want, Jew? I'm busy." It's short and without much feeling behind it. Cartman looks drained.

Kyle opens his mouth, millions of words and phrases coming to him all at once, but only one of them manages to break through.

"How long?"

Cartman's brows furrow over his blue eyes. He teeters where he stands; his eyes are guarded as he glances at the last students leaving the classroom. The teacher has already deserted it even before the students.

"What are you fucking talking about?"

Kyle takes the plunge because there's only one way to go and it's hopefully up.

"It's stupid. This shouldn't be happening. If you were a more honest person than this wouldn't be happening. I wouldn't have to feel like—" Kyle breaks off. His brows come together as he slowly admits to himself the truth. These types of feelings would be easier to accept for both of them if their relationship to begin with wasn't built on constant displeasure and _apparently_ feigned disdain.

Kyle almost wishes he could go back. Maybe the animosity between them could have been prevented; a misunderstanding that became a full-on war. He genuinely hates Cartman, more than anyone in this world, but that is exactly what makes this difficult and downright stupid. Making each other their one priority had muddled the waters between them considerably and neither of them had been aware of it until it was too late.

Cartman's eyes narrow, but Kyle can feel the hectic and nervous energy flowing off him. These simple words have put Cartman on edge; it means there is something here. He's not imagining it.

Cartman stays silent so Kyle continues.

"I wouldn't have realized it, you know, if you hadn't been so pushy. It seems obvious in hindsight—"

"Fuck you! You don't fucking know anything, Kahl! You don't fucking understand! You—"

"That's right," Kyle admits. "I don't. I don't understand how we can be here any better than you do. I wouldn't have seen this coming a year ago, but now it all seems inevitable." Kyle sighs, glaring off to the side. He tightens his hold on Cartman's hand, not even surprised he's still holding onto it. Holding Cartman's hand had jump-started this revelation, after all.

Cartman's eyes are narrowed and hateful, hiding genuine fear and anxiety, no doubt. Kyle has always known these feeling must exist within Cartman, but this is the first time he's acknowledged them for what they are. Cartman does nothing but hide, too afraid of some form of rejection. Kyle supposes his anger and hate and resentment towards Cartman never helped that.

"I don't believe you," Cartman spits and he takes a step back, pulling on their joined hands, but Kyle's got a hard grip when he does and they stay put. "You won't even say it fucking clearly so how am I supposed to think you even care—"

"At worst, we're enemies. At best, we're heading to something _really_ fucking gay, dude."

That breaks Cartman out of his monologue and everything seems to stop within him. He slowly blinks as his mind starts working again, an uncertain and suspicious expression replacing his previous hate and anger. But, also, there's a small glimmer of hope, something Cartman can't squash down as easily.

"You don't like me like that," Cartman says blankly. He shakes his head. "You don't even like me _period_."

"That's not true. I wouldn't spend my time with you on a daily bases if that was true."

"...What's your angle, Jew?"

Kyle rolls his eyes. It is disgusting how distrusting they are of each other despite having such strong feelings for each other. They are a couple of nutcases like this; no wonder their friends grow tired of them.

"There _is_ no fucking angle. I'm trying to convey my fucking feelings here because you're never going to fucking gain the balls to do it. I know you. Your plan was just to ignore me for the rest of your life, wasn't it?"

Cartman clears his throat and skirts around Kyle's irritated gaze with a small nervous smile.

"...It could have worked."

"No, it fucking couldn't! We live two doors down, sit beside each other during class and have the same friend group! You could not have sustained that any better than me pretending I hadn't realized the truth. I didn't need to tell you any of this when confronting you, Cartman. You know I could have convinced you to stop running away if I acted like there wasn't anything to run away from."

Cartman frowns uncomfortably, eyeing Kyle from the corner of his eye.

"Then why are you doing this? Be honest, Kahl. I don't want to hear your Jew lies."

Kyle doesn't understand why Cartman hasn't figured it out yet. Does he need to write out a diagram explaining the situation or—

Kyle blinks. Reluctance pulls inside him. Sure, he's admitted he has these feelings, maybe even half accepted them for what they are, but this is too new of a revelation to just—

But then he really looks at Cartman. There's a vulnerability in Cartman's whole posture, his face and eyes giving more away than they would usually ever do. He's waiting for something, some grand gesture that'll prove Kyle's words as facts instead of tricks. He doesn't think Kyle can do it without it being real.

Cartman idealizes romance to the degree of a teenage girl. It's something Kyle had conveniently forgotten in the heat of the moment. Only a grandiose gesture would ever get through to him.

"Fucking hell."

Before Cartman can register the words and subsequently demand their meaning, Kyle pulls on Cartman's hand hard enough to make even Cartman stumble. The younger boy tumbles into Kyle's space with a loud squawking noise attached to his entrance and Kyle doesn't allow himself time to think before grabbing Cartman's chin and forcing it in the direction he needs it to be. Cartman tries to squirm away, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Eh! Kahl! Mmm!"

Kyle waits long enough to see the wide-eyed shock and amazement take place on Cartman's face before quickly closing his eyes. He's not that courageous to continue looking at Cartman while he's doing this. Besides, you aren't really supposed to look, are you?

Even though Kyle had been attempting to go for a romantic approach to a kiss, he can admit forcing it like this isn't exactly what Cartman probably wanted. Oh, well. Kyle isn't in the business of buckling down for Cartman anyway.

Cartman's struggles have stopped and a small sound of enjoyment and elation vibrates between them. The kiss is simple enough; Kyle isn't old enough yet to understand how to kiss any better than a press of lips, but the strong pressure that Cartman gives suddenly is enough to make Kyle lean heavily into his desk, brows furrowing.

After awhile, Cartman's enthusiasm over the situation becomes too much and Kyle pulls away, pushing at Cartman's shoulder. Cartman ignores this and tries to capture his lips again and Kyle sighs.

"Hey, let up. A kiss isn't supposed to be this painful and suffocating."

Cartman, to Kyle's utter bewilderment, actually giggles. His eyes are shining and he looks the tiniest bit smug.

"You kissed me."

"Yes." Kyle's shoulders relax and he gives a half smile. "I did."

Cartman's smug look gets smugger. Kyle puts a finger to his lips before he can say anything stupid and annoying. Cartman's brows twitch but he accepts the silence. He stares, big blue eyes somehow worse than whatever he could ever say to Kyle. Kyle finds himself flushing under their intensity for the first time in his life, the context of their situation triggering it and making him turn his head away.

Cartman snickers.

Kyle shoots him a look but decides to let it go. He pushes Cartman further away and they stand there for a few moments, contemplating their new dynamic. There's an expectancy travelling between them. It annoys Kyle.

"Dammit, Cartman, do I have to do all the work? You could at least fucking try to ask this time. I made it clear enough you won't get a negative."

Cartman just hums, that stupid smirk on his face as he places a hand on his chin and tilts his head back and forth.

"I don't know," he says slowly. "You were already doing so well, Jew, so I didn't want to interrupt you."

"Bullcrap."

Cartman looks up at him. His eyes squint and cheeks dimple when he smiles. Kyle allows himself to enjoy it for once. For now on, probably. It's starting to get obvious he'd been subconsciously denying responses like this.

"Do you really want this, Kahl? I'll be a huge handful."

Kyle's lips twist up in amusement.

"I can handle huge."

Cartman scowls at him.

"Hey!" Then he crosses his arms, something in his expression giving away. He frowns. "I thought you'd be against dating me. It'll ruin your reputation."

Kyle rolls his eyes, some annoyance trickling back, but it isn't directed toward Cartman this time.

"For some reason when people think we're dating they don't seem to mind. Maybe they see something that we can't, I don't fucking know. Whatever the case, I doubt we'll get much backlash from it other than the fact we'll be talked about for the next week or two."

"Awww. Only two weeks?"

Kyle snorts. Of course, Cartman would want all the attention he can get from this. What a moron.

"Look—" Kyle turns away and grabs his stuff— "things aren't going to be that different between us so they'll get bored. That's just how people are. Deal with it. I'd rather keep things between us without people breathing down my fucking neck any day."

"Will you go out with me, Kahl?"

Kyle is surprised. He looks up at Cartman. Sure, Kyle had wanted Cartman to say it, but he had accepted it would be unspoken and it was best to move on. Instead, Cartman is staring at him expectantly, waiting impatiently for an answer. Kyle is embarrassingly lost for words for a few seconds.

"Uh, yeah. Yes. Let's do that."

Cartman snickers and moves to grab his own things. Then, to Kyle's further surprise, Cartman reaches out his free hand for Kyle to hold.

It's an end of an era when Kyle grabs it.


End file.
